A Very Castle Christmas
by bloodwrites
Summary: It's Alexis's first Christmas away... Which means Papa Bear's lonely. Add to that a crime of passion, an ill-timed blizzard, a pair of slippy Beckett boots, and the Muppet Movie, and you have... A Very Castle Christmas.
1. Chapter 1

**_So, this is my first attempt at Castle fic - man, it's nerve wracking delving into a new fandom! The second - and final - chapter will be up either Saturday or Sunday. Hope you enjoy! _**

Christmas Eve was quiet at the station house, just twinkly lights and the occasional hooker to brighten what was otherwise definitely not a happy place to be. Somehow, Castle had thought it would be a little more festive than this – at least, that's the way he'd always imagined Christmas at the 12th precinct. Of course, that was pure conjecture – up until this year, Castle hadn't been around for the holiday. Sure, he'd drop in to spread a little Christmas cheer, stock the place with presents, give Beckett a hard time. But then he'd be off to the Hamptons with his mother and Alexis, ready to deck the halls.

But this year… Well, this year he was definitely… Here. Alexis was in California with Ashley (_Please, Dad – I know we broke up, but this is our one chance to see if we can actually make it work. You know, reconnect._) Right. And, yeah, he could have played the "It's our last Christmas together living under the same roof and things will never be the same after this" card. But did he really want to be that guy? Besides, Kate had said it was a bad idea – Alexis was trying to spread her wings. What she needed most from him right now was space.

So, Castle had been the bigger man. Then, Martha announced that she'd met the latest love of her life, and he was whisking her off to Paris for Christmas. Paris. And Castle was happy for her, of course, but still…

It was Christmas, for crying out loud.

"Rick!"

Castle looked up from his brooding to find Kate trying to get his attention. He must have looked pretty bad, because the usual Beckett annoyed/amused glare was tempered with concern.

"I've got a call on the Upper East Side – you wanna come?"

Hell yeah.

He grabbed his jacket. "Who kills somebody on Christmas Eve?" he asked once they were en route, lights flashing. It was a little after eight, a steady snow falling, white Christmas lights on every street corner. Esposito and Ryan were off for the night, which meant they were short-staffed. Beckett, of course, had volunteered to work the holiday.

"You'd be surprised," Kate said. "Christmas tends to bring out the worst in families."

He'd heard that, of course, but he'd never really experienced it firsthand. Which was supposedly the reason he was here – he was writing the next Nikki Heat book, and the case just happened to coincide with the Christmas season. It made sense that he should see what kind of havoc the holiday wrought at the station house.

"So, you got any plans for tomorrow?" Kate asked, just before they got to the scene.

"Just a laidback day – you know how it is. Nothing special." He could tell she was trying not to smile. "What's funny about that?"

She rolled those big brown eyes at him. "Please, Castle – you're just gonna take it easy on Christmas? That must be driving you crazy. You know, you could spend the day with my dad and me, if you'd like. We don't really – "

"Okay."

She laughed. "Wow, don't make me twist your arm."

"You should know by now, I have no pride – especially if it involves a day hanging out with the Becketts. So, what are your traditions? Home-cooked dinner by the fire, Tiny Tim singing carols, 'It's a Wonderful Life' playing low in the background?"

"You've seen way too many Christmas specials. I usually sleep in, then my dad'll pick up some takeout. We open our gifts with a little Bing Crosby in the background, and make an early night of it."

His face fell. "That's it?"

"What did you expect? Compared to what it was after my mom died, that's pretty nice."

Right. He'd almost forgotten.

"Well – how about you come to my place this year? I have this huge tree, and I promise to play enough Crosby to last a lifetime."

She pulled up to the curb in front of a high rise with half a dozen cruisers out front, their lights flashing.

"Aw, Rick, I don't know…"

"What's not to know? I'll take care of the food. All you guys have to do is show up – I know you can do that much." He put on his most pathetic face. "Pleeeeeease, Kate. Otherwise, the tree and all those trimmings are just gonna go to waste."

"Fine. But at least let me bring something. I could… I don't know, bake a pie or something."

"Really?"

She bristled at his disbelief. "Well – I could buy a pie or something," she amended grudgingly. "There's not really time to bake one."

They were in front of the building by now, and that light snow he'd noted earlier wasn't quite as light as he'd thought. A twenty-something man – a little pudgy, but generally good looking – in an expensive wool coat was propped to the right of the entrance. He had one of those cheap Christmas bows stuck to his forehead, an icicle dripping from the end of his nose, and a very high end butcher's knife protruding from his sternum.

New York was just coming out of a brutal cold snap, and the temperature was still hovering at not much more than twenty degrees. A doorman in a perfectly pressed red uniform stood off to the side, obviously unnerved.

"I just came out to see what the weather was doing," he explained to one of the cops already on the scene. "And I turn around, and find _this_ leaning against my building."

Lanie was examining the body, and she didn't look happy about it.

"Glad you guys could make it," the medical examiner sniped.

"Ooh – somebody's not in a good mood," Castle noted. "Did Santa fill your stocking with coal?"

"I don't know what Santa filled my stocking with, but I've had two dead bodies in the past two hours. Do I look like somebody who'd been planning to check out dead bodies all night?"

She did not. Underneath the gloves and the jacket and the basic ME gear, Castle caught a glimpse of sparkly sheer stockings and a red dress that stopped just above the knee. Her hair was done, her make-up had probably been perfect not so long ago, and Castle could detect just a hint of some very pricey _eau de toilette_ – you know, underneath the smell of death and the cold New York street.

"I take it you had plans?" he asked delicately.

"Hell yeah, I had plans. I was on my way up to Vermont with Mason – you know, that guy I just started seeing? – and a bunch of his friends. We were gonna spend two days in his ski chalet. Have you ever been to a ski chalet?" She leveled a glare at Castle, who wasn't clear on exactly what the right answer might be here.

"Uh… No?"

"Yeah, right – you've probably got your own ski chalet in the Swiss Alps or something. Well, I've never been to a ski chalet. And I've definitely never dated a man who _owns_ a ski chalet."

"You could probably catch up with them later," he suggested timidly.

"Not in this weather, I can't. These flurries are just the tip of the iceberg – we've got a damned Nor'easter on the way. Everything's gonna be shut down by midnight."

"Ah."

"Yeah, 'Ah.'" She sighed, but then seemed to realize who she was talking to. "What about you – aren't you usually up in the Hamptons by now, having a Very Hemingway Christmas?"

"I think a Very Hemingway Christmas involves copious amounts of whiskey, homoerotic innuendo, and the maiming of large animals, but I take your point," he said. "Nah – Alexis wanted to spend the holiday with her boyfriend on the West Coast. And Mother's in Paris."

"Ooh – that's rough." She seemed genuinely sympathetic, at least.

"I hate to interrupt your gripe fest," Kate said, "but there's a dead guy here whose Christmas is looking a little more dire than either of yours. Lanie, what can you tell me?"

"Well, cause of death is – "

"Ooh, I've got this one," Castle interrupted. "Hmm… I'd say judging by lividity and position of the body, not to mention the giant knife sticking out of his chest, COD was… Um, natural causes, right?"

"You're funny for a man whose family just abandoned him," Lanie noted dryly.

"Ouch. Fine – see if I try to lighten the mood at another Christmas murder scene."

Kate cleared her throat, and Lanie took her cue. "Actually, I can't say for certain until I've done the complete exam, but I'd say offhand that cause of death was exposure. The knife through the chest came later – he's been dead for a while. Body temp's colder than a Christmas goose."

"And you've never seen this man before?" Kate asked the doorman, still standing off to the side looking perturbed. His eyes slid from hers before he answered.

"Well, he's certainly not a resident."

Castle could tell Beckett hadn't missed the reaction. John Doe might not have lived here, but the doorman definitely knew him.

"What about the knife?" Castle asked. He crouched down to get a better look, careful not to touch it. "This is a Wusthof – it's a pretty pricey blade to stick in a dead guy. Do you have any chefs in the building?"

The doorman crossed his arms over his chest and shuffled his feet. Beckett took the cue and stepped a little closer.

"Answer the question. Do you know who this knife belongs to?"

"Our residents value their privacy – "

"Not anymore than this man valued his life, I promise you," Beckett said. "You can tell us here or I can haul you down to the station and you can tell us there. What's it gonna be?"

He hemmed and hawed for another few seconds before he finally rolled his eyes. "Brad Windham – he lives on the third floor. I've seen the same knives in his apartment."

"_The_ Brad Windham?" Castle asked. He straightened, and stared up at the building. "I thought he lived out in L.A."

"He likes to keep a place in the city," the doorman explained.

"Windham's one of the biggest names in cooking right now," Castle told Beckett. She looked at him impatiently.

"I know who Brad Windham is, Castle. I do turn on the TV occasionally." She turned to the doorman again. "And Windham is here now?"

"He was as of this afternoon, and I haven't seen him leave."

"I don't know who your chef was fighting with this morning," Lanie said, inserting herself into the conversation. "But it wasn't this man. He's been dead for at least twenty-four hours."

"Any way to tell how long the knife's been in there?" Castle asked.

"I can run a couple of tests back at the lab, and I'll be able to tell you then."

Beckett looked torn. "I'd still like to talk to this guy. See if he knows anything."

The rest of the cops on the scene were standing around looking restless now that CSU had arrived. Kate glanced at Castle, then addressed the others.

"You guys canvas the neighborhood, see if anybody saw this guy – before or after he died. He didn't just materialize out of thin air. Somebody must've seen something."

Once everyone else had dispersed, she turned to Castle and nodded toward the building. "You wanna meet Brad Windham?"

His eyes lit up. "Yeah?"

"Sure, what the hell," she said with a shrug. "Consider it an early Christmas present."

* * *

><p>The first thing Castle noted about the high rise where Brad Windham lived was how shiny everything was. Like, blindingly shiny. Castle preferred old money – mahogany and muted tones, a little subtlety to take the edge off. Windham and his fellow residents obviously felt differently.<p>

"Should've brought my shades," Kate noted, echoing his thoughts.

The lobby had a huge, modern Christmas tree – one of those awful art deco things that wasn't so much tree as a bunch of plastic triangles and metallic bulbs. White lights glittered on every available surface, and a group of residents were gathered at the window to gawk, though they were trying hard not to look like it. When Kate and Castle came inside, they dispersed quickly – within thirty seconds, there wasn't a soul to be seen.

"Was it something we said?" Castle asked.

Kate wrinkled her nose. "Typical. It's no different here than it is on the other side of town – somebody gets killed, and nobody wants to get involved. Sometimes, people suck."

They got on the elevator to head up to Windham's apartment. It stopped on the second floor, and a little old woman shuffled on. Before Castle could hit any of the buttons for her, she hit the emergency stop button and turned to them both. She was maybe five feet tall, with blue-gray hair and a fur coat PETA would've had a field day with.

"You're here about the dead boy?" she asked.

Kate nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Is there anything you can tell us?"

"I don't live here," the woman said seriously. She had an old New England accent – the kind that came from years of money and privilege. "I'm just visiting my nephew – it's an awful place. So crass. But I saw that man – the dead man – leaving here two days ago. He was clearly intoxicated… Weaving and incoherent. I remember because I mentioned it to Carl – my nephew. It's not the sort of element with whom he should be associating – doesn't reflect well on the family."

"Do you remember where he was coming from?" Beckett asked.

"Well… Not really. He was in the lobby, arguing with Michael."

"Michael…?" Castle prompted.

"The doorman, of course. The one who called you. I assumed he'd told you – they clearly knew each other quite well." She looked uncomfortable. "If you know what I mean."

Beckett met his eye, understanding flashing at the same moment. "Thank you – you've been a great help," she said to the woman, already going for the elevator buttons to get it started again.

"We're not meeting Brad Windham, are we?" Castle asked, after they'd ushered the old woman off the elevator.

"Not right now, we're not," she said. "Sorry." Then, she gave him one of those enigmatic smiles she'd been flashing his way a lot lately. "I'll make it up to you. Promise."

Castle raised his eyebrows and opened and closed his mouth and shuffled a little where he stood. "Uh… Okay, then." He clapped his hands so loudly they echoed. "Let's go get that doorman!"

* * *

><p>Michael the Doorman was, predictably enough, nowhere to be found by the time they got back to the lobby. One of the tenants told them she'd seen him leave a few minutes before, and the chase was on. Castle followed Beckett outside, where they hit the curb just in time to see Michael disappear down a side street on foot.<p>

"Hey!" Beckett called. "Stop!"

Michael didn't stop. Beckett called out to another cop for backup, ordered Castle to stay where he was (Honestly, why did she even bother anymore?), and took off on foot.

Rather than risking her wrath by following Kate, Castle circled around the block the other way. He'd never catch up to Beckett anyway, but the doorman looked like he was in pretty good shape – add to that the burst of adrenaline dear old Mike was no doubt feeling from the chase, and Castle just might head him off before Kate caught up.

They were headed up Lexington toward 86th, all the shops closed by now but the streets still busy. Castle skidded around a corner and caught a flash of Michael's red uniform up ahead, just as he darted inside an apartment building. Rents were way too high for a doorman to afford – Castle wondered if it might be another place the guy worked. He waited a couple of seconds for Beckett – or somebody, at least – to show up, but nobody did. So, he did what any self-respecting crime writer-slash-wannabe-cop would do: He followed the perp inside.

There was a security guy at the door, but luckily he turned out to be a mystery fan – he flashed a grin the second he recognized Castle, and let him right on in. Fame definitely had its perks.

"Whoa – Rick Castle, right?"

"In the flesh," Castle said with as much of a grin as he could muster while simultaneously trying to catch his breath. "Say, you didn't happen to see a man in red bolt past here a minute ago, did you?"

"Michael? Yeah – just about knocked me off my feet." He nodded in the direction of an archway toward the back. "I think he was headed upstairs."

"He live here?"

The guard gave him an 'Are you serious?' look and shook his head. "He works days here – when he's not at that tacky glass palace down the street."

"Any idea where he might have gone in a hurry?"

"Only place I can think is the roof."

Right. Crap. Castle thanked the guard and headed for the stairs, punching in Beckett's number as he went. When it picked up, he gasped into the receiver while he raced the three flights to the top.

"I'm on 86th and Lex – the Talbot Regency. He's on the roof."

"Castle?"

"Yes, Castle – who else would it be? Did you hear me?"

"Got it – we'll be right there. Just hang back, I don't want you getting in this guy's way if he thinks he's cornered."

Castle managed an ineloquent grunt and hung up. Damn. He really needed to get to the gym more.

He slowed down when he reached the door leading out to the roof. Michael didn't look like the kind of guy who carried a gun – but then, he also didn't look like the kind of guy who would stick a butcher's knife through a man's chest. If Castle had learned nothing else from trailing Beckett for the past four years, it was that people were unpredictable.

When he finally, very slowly opened the door, Castle was met with a blast of cold wind and a face full of snow. He got low to the ground, searching the roof for any sign of the doorman. It didn't take long before he spotted him at the edge of the building – sure enough with a gun in his hand, staring out over the city. Castle swallowed past a lump of fear the size of a Kardashian diamond, and very carefully cleared his throat.

Michael jumped all the same, turning wildly in the direction of the sound. Castle raised his hands to show he presented no threat.

"Slow down, Michael. Just take it easy. Why don't you put the gun down, and we can talk this thing over."

"Talk it over? _Talk it over_?" Okay, hearing it like that, Castle had to admit that it didn't sound like the best plan. "I killed him. I mean – I didn't mean to." He started to cry, still holding the gun tight with both hands.

"If you didn't mean to, we can work something out," Castle soothed. "Just put the gun down, Michael. This doesn't have to be the end of your life."

"It was just one of those stupid fights, you know?" the doorman continued. "He was flirting, and that jerk Windham was clearly interested… I got mad."

"So, you slipped something in his drink," Castle said, almost thinking aloud. How else would a man in an expensive wool coat freeze to death in New York City?

"He was supposed to go straight home!" he shouted. "Not wander around the city when it was ten below zero! And then I came out of my apartment this morning and…"

He started crying harder now, the gun moving dangerously close to his own head. Castle winced. He couldn't help but feel for the guy. One stupid decision, and suddenly he's on the roof waving a gun, his life headed in a very, very bad direction.

Behind him, Castle saw Kate's head and shoulders clear the building; she was coming up the fire escape. She put her finger to her lips to let him know he shouldn't give her away – like he needed to be reminded.

"So, how did your boyfriend end up with Brad Windham's knife through his chest?" Castle asked, in a last bid to keep the man talking.

"I went up there this morning to deliver a package, and the bastard had the nerve to ask me about Paul – how long we'd been seeing each other, whether it was serious… That's when I got the idea. I went into the kitchen, took one of his precious knives, and snuck it out under my jacket." For a few seconds, he'd actually been distracted enough to stop crying and calm down. He shook his head ruefully. "I forgot all the CSI crap you people know now… I wasn't thinking. I stuck the knife in his chest, loaded him in my car, and dumped him here."

Suddenly, Michael got a very focused gleam in his eye. His hands steadied visibly as he leveled the gun just below his chin, pointing up at a deadly angle.

"I'm an idiot," he said softly, his eyes taking on a distant cast.. "I loved him. He loved me – he was sitting outside my apartment building this morning, waiting for me to let him in."

"Come on, man," Castle said, a desperate edge creeping into his voice. "Don't do this. You can make it through this."

Michael shook his head. "I don't think so."

Kate was on the roof now, her own gun drawn.

"Michael," she said quietly, "I want you to put the gun down."

He started, the gun waving wildly as he whirled on Kate. A loud crack broke the stillness, and Castle saw a fleeting look of terror on Kate's face just before she went down, falling backward. Castle ran for her but he was too far away to be any help – she hit the edge of the building, hard, and then plummeted out of sight.

* * *

><p>"Kate – Kate, can you hear me?"<p>

She was already half-covered in snow by the time Castle reached her, crumpled awkwardly on the second floor fire escape. Her skin was cold to the touch. When she slowly opened her eyes, he honestly could have wept.

"Dad?" she said, her voice wavering. She furrowed her brow, like she didn't recognize him.

"No – Kate, it's me – "

And then she laughed. Just… laughed. He debated strangling her then and there.

"You're… You're kidding? Are you serious? You think this is funny?"

"I'm sorry, Castle – I couldn't resist." Her smile vanished, a look of genuine remorse replacing it. Her hand found his as she tried to sit up.

"Easy," Castle said, once he realized that – despite her little performance – she really was hurt. A gash above her left eye was bleeding heavily, turning the snow beneath her a dark pink. "Don't try to get up."

Of course that didn't stop her. She started to stand, then quickly sank back down.

"What part of 'don't get up' do you not understand?"

"What the hell happened?" she asked. There was a trace of fear in her eyes – that little seed of panic that he'd seen a lot lately, though she was trying like hell to hide it.

"An icy landing, those killer boots you insist on wearing, and a very bumpy flight down a fire escape happened." He could hear sirens now, and the other cop on the scene waved over the ambulance.

"No… Now _you're_ kidding, right?" She looked horrified. "I _fell_? I slipped and fell. Did anybody see me?"

Vanity, thy name is Beckett. "Besides me and the homicidal doorman? Not a soul."

"Did he at least shoot at me? Please, tell me he had a gun."

"Oh, yeah – he definitely had a gun, and he was waving it around like nobody's business. But an icicle cracked off the roof next door." She winced, and he knew exactly what she was thinking. "Hey, Kate – I thought it was a shot, too. I swear… Anybody would have. This wasn't you."

She'd never admit to it, but he could tell she was relieved at his words.

"Did we get him?"

"Yeah – there was another cop on his way up. Michael was so freaked out when he saw you fall that he just gave himself up."

The paramedics showed up then, and Castle stepped aside while they did their thing. Of course, Beckett didn't want to go to the hospital. And of course, Castle insisted. He let her have her way and didn't make her go in the ambulance, but then had to suffer through her backseat driving while he drove them to the ER. Still, he got to use the lights and siren – which, all things considered, was pretty cool.

It didn't take long for someone to see her once they got to the hospital – apparently, all it took to get quality care in New York City was a slow night and a gushing head wound. Castle was dialing his cell phone as they wheeled Kate away, his stomach in a knot, when she called back to him.

"Rick?"

He hurried over to the wheelchair, where she was looking a little pale but still remarkably lucid.

"Yeah – right here."

"Please don't call my dad."

"But – "

She lay her hand on his arm, her brown eyes pleading. "He worries too much as it is. Just… I'll be fine. A couple stitches, and I'm good as new. Promise me you won't call him."

He grudgingly gave her his word, and put away the phone.

* * *

><p>Unlike the last time he was in the hospital waiting for word on Kate's well-being, this time there was no one else to distract him before his imagination took over. And Castle had one hell of an imagination. Maybe they'd do a brain scan and discover a tumor. Or she could've jostled something that wasn't supposed to be jostled in the fall, and end up paralyzed. They could accidentally give her the wrong medication… Hell, she could get switched with another patient and they could accidentally remove her spleen.<p>

Kate needed her spleen, dammit.

By the time half an hour had passed, Castle's stomach was inside out and he was ready to call the first good malpractice lawyer he could find, while he waited for word of one more tragic turn in the Life of Beckett.

Instead, Kate came out laughing with the blonde, blue-eyed – seriously, the man was clearly part of the Aryan master plan – doctor wheeling her into the waiting room. She had a neat little bandage above her eyebrow and still looked kind of pale, but otherwise you'd never know she'd fallen off a freakin' building just an hour before.

The doctor wasn't as good looking as her old boyfriend – thank God – but he was still definitely making eyes at Kate. He smiled politely at Castle when he stopped her wheelchair in front of him.

"Castle, this is Dr. Everett – he was one of the docs who took care of me last spring."

"We were hoping not to see her again so soon, but at least this time it's minor," the doctor said, only half looking at Castle.

"So, you're okay?" Castle asked. He knew he sounded anxious. "The head looks good, but they didn't find any… abnormalities? And obviously there was no time for major surgery." He looked at her seriously. "You still have your spleen, right?"

Kate flashed him that smile she always got when she thought he was being an idiot. "I'm fine, Castle. Just like I said – they stitched me up, and I'm good as new. Probably won't even have a scar."

Castle looked at the doctor for confirmation. The Aryan nodded.

"She should be just fine," he agreed. "But since I know Kate here a little too well, I thought it'd be wise to give someone else the instructions for her care."

He arched an eyebrow at Kate, but she just grimaced and rolled her eyes.

"She has a concussion," he told Castle. "Nothing serious, but someone will need to stay with her overnight. No work for a couple of days, and for the next twelve hours you'll need to check her pupils every hour and make sure she's lucid. Any memory lapses, difficulty speaking, dizziness or excessive vomiting, and you're to get her back here immediately."

"Of course," Castle agreed.

He got the rest of the directions from the doctor, they filled a prescription for pain meds at the hospital pharmacy, and half an hour later they were back on the road.

"So, you still don't want me to call your dad?"

She was in the passenger's seat with her eyes closed, her hand gripping the door handle so tightly her knuckles were white.

"No, Castle – I told you, I'm fine. I'm just gonna go back to my place and get some sleep – "

"I'm sorry, you're just what?"

She opened one eye, grinning widely. Her hand loosened on the door handle. "Kidding. Man, Castle, you're a pretty easy mark when I'm bruised and battered."

His eyes widened, but he found himself at a loss for a comeback. His silence seemed to get through to her, because she got serious.

"In answer to your question – No, I still don't want to call Dad. But… I'm gonna need someone to stay with me…"

It wasn't quite a question, but the uncertainty was clear on her face.

"You could stay at my place," he said. "Spare bedroom, Jacuzzi tub, movie marathon in my home theatre…?"

She was trying like hell not to look too eager, but he could tell he had her at 'home theatre.'

"I guess that wouldn't be so bad," was what she said. To Castle, it might as well have been a ticker tape parade. He flashed her a quick smile.

"All right – my place it is."

* * *

><p>By the time they'd swung by Kate's place to get a few things, stopped at the corner market for a little emergency ice cream, and gotten back to his apartment, it was after ten o'clock. While she put her stuff in the spare room, Castle put on some grilled cheese sandwiches and soup and piled the sofa high with pillows and blankets, then looked up when she stood on the stairs with her brow furrowed and her bag in her hands.<p>

"Problem?"

"I forgot my pajamas. I thought I had everything, but…"

"You want me to go get them?"

She laughed. "No – that's fine."

"I could go buy a pair."

"On Christmas Eve?" Her laughter turned to disbelief. "I think I'll manage, Castle. You know, you really need to stop doing that if we're ever gonna – "

She stopped. Went red, right to her chestnut roots. Castle's eyebrows climbed clear to his hairline.

"Um – I'm sorry. 'I have to stop doing which if we're ever gonna…' what?"

"N – nothing. I mean – I just meant, you don't have to always assume buying something is the best solution. Sometimes it's the worst solution – or no solution at all. I can just… I could wear something else. Or borrow something."

Their eyes met. She was babbling. And blushing. And there was no mistaking it – _If we're ever gonna_… meant exactly what he thought it meant. Didn't it?

"Did you forget the part where I have a head injury?" she finished lamely.

He managed to hide his grin as he refocused on their grilled cheese sandwiches.

"Right – how could I forget? Well… All right, then, I retract the offer to buy you new PJs. You want to borrow a pair of mine or would you prefer Alexis's?"

He just barely managed to avoid doing a little dance when he heard Kate's answer, with a little silk to her tone – and he knew _that_ wasn't his imagination.

"Yours will be fine, Rick."

Hell yeah, they would.

* * *

><p>While Kate changed into his pajamas (now that was a phrase that should be stitched on a pillow, if ever he'd heard one), Castle put the soup and sandwiches on a tray, set up the surround sound and the projector, and cued up the movie she'd chosen. There was no wine – she did have a concussion, after all – and he skipped candles in favor of dimming the lights, but it still felt like one of the more romantic nights he'd had in a while.<p>

Which was probably sad, but he wasn't going to analyze.

She came down a couple of minutes later in his flannel pajamas, the cuffs rolled up and the waist cinched tight, her hair down around her shoulders. There'd been this whole debate in his mind over whether or not he should sit on the sofa with her or take the chair next to it, but she sat far enough over that it was clear where she expected him to park.

"I'm not actually that hungry," she admitted once they'd sat down. The sofa was big enough that they could sit on separate ends without touching, but not so big that it felt like there was a giant chasm between them, which hadn't been planned but still worked out nicely. He nodded sympathetically.

"Yeah, Doctor Mengele there mentioned you might be a little queasy. You okay?"

"I am, actually – my body took most of the beating when I fell, it was just that the scratch over my eye looked the most dramatic. I think whenever you get knocked in the head they have to call it a concussion and take the necessary precautions to cover their own asses, but… Honestly, Castle, I feel fine. Just tired."

"Yeah, well… I'd rather play it safe." He turned to her with a whole new level of anxiety when her words sank in. "Wait – your body took most of the beating? They checked you over, right? I mean… I'm no expert, but in my experience internal bleeding is almost never a good thing."

"They checked me over," she assured him. "Ultrasound and everything – no internal injuries. Everything's where it should be, and it's all in one piece." She lay her hand on his arm and looked into his eyes seriously. "I'm okay, Rick. You don't have to worry."

He scoffed at that. "Easier said than done." Their eyes held for a few seconds, her brow furrowed in concern. She really was… God, gorgeous didn't even begin to cover it. She sat with her body just barely touching his, her legs curled beneath her, a strand of chestnut hair curled gracefully over one ear. He'd never met anyone more beautiful in his life.

Her eyes slid from his and she chewed her bottom lip, a sure sign she'd caught the tension.

"So… I guess we should start the movie."

"Right! Yeah… Start the movie. You sure this is what you want?"

"Absolutely. It was kind of a tradition when I was little," she admitted. "I haven't watched in years, but my mom would rent it every Christmas Eve and we'd all curl up with popcorn and hot cider."

"Wow. That's sweet…" He considered his own Christmas traditions. "One year, Mother dressed as a naughty elf, made a double batch of red margaritas, and performed her one-woman Burlesque interpretation of the Nutcracker Suite for her _amour dujour_ and three very sheltered classmates from the all-boys academy I was attending at the time."

Kate had just taken a sip of hot cocoa and very nearly spit it out all over both of them before she recovered.

"You're kidding," she finally said when she'd stopped laughing, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"Sadly, no. Yet another image I'll never be able to erase from my mind. Trust me, there are many."

He started the movie – The Muppet Movie, no less… A long-time favorite of he and Alexis's. Kate put her arm through his and leaned into him, her head tipped to his shoulder. Castle held very still for a moment, then figured… What the hell. He shifted, pulling his arm from hers and wrapping it around her shoulders. Then, he held his breath and waited for Kate to deck him or the planets to collide.

Neither happened.

Instead, she settled in a little bit more, her head resting on his chest now. When Kermit started singing about his rainbow connection, Castle took Kate's hand. At the entrance of Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem, they both began reciting memorable lines – (Castle: "I seem to have lost my sense of direction…" Kate, looking up at him with a smirk: "Have you tried Hare Krishna?"), and by the time the muppets hit Hollywood, Castle was thinking maybe he'd survive Alexis's first Christmas without him all right after all.

Kate fell asleep shortly before the movie ended. The entire left side of Castle's body had fallen asleep well before that, but he wasn't about to complain. He shifted, pushing the hair back from her face gently.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at him for a long second or two of pure, charged silence. The apartment was dark but for the Christmas lights, quiet but for the sound of their own breath and the ambient noise that never stopped in New York. Kate smiled at him, sitting up just slightly without actually putting much distance between them.

"I was just checking your pupils… The doctor said I was supposed to, remember?"

She smirked at him – which she'd been doing a lot lately. It was enough to give a guy a complex, all this Beckett smirking.

"And?" she asked.

"They look good." They looked great, as a matter of fact. He'd always admired Kate's eyes – deep and dark, fringed with generous lashes, big enough to get lost in for at least a lifetime. "Though to be fair I'm not exactly sure what I'm supposed to be looking for."

"I think the pupils are supposed to be the same size – and that they react to the light. That kind of thing."

"Aah. Well, that clears that up." They were speaking in hushed tones, just above a whisper. Castle had the odd feeling that the moment was so tenuous, simply speaking at a normal volume could shatter it. "I guess you've been down this road before. For Kate Beckett, a simple concussion is a walk in the park."

"Pretty much," she agreed. Well, her words said she agreed. Her body language said, 'Shut the hell up and change the subject.'

Interesting. He decided to keep going, and see where it took them.

"You know, you scared me out there today," he admitted quietly.

He bridged the scant gap between them and pushed a thick lock of hair back behind her ear. There had been something different about her over the last month or so – a shift in their relationship, though neither of them had actually addressed that shift. And Kate had been unquestionably more open with him. Now, though, he saw a flash of the old Kate fear before she could lock it down.

"I know," she said, just as quietly. He expected her to change the subject. She didn't. "I saw the look on your face just before I went down. I knew what you were thinking… I was honestly thinking the same thing. I am okay, though."

"Except for the nasty gash in your noggin," he amended.

"Well – yeah, except for that."

"And the bruises… You must have some serious bruises."

"I've got a couple. I'll live."

"That's good."

Their eyes held in the dim shadows of his apartment, time suspended. He ran the back of his hand down her cheek, watching her reaction with frank curiosity. Anyone else, and he would know these cues… It wasn't like Rick Castle had never been with a woman before, after all. She swallowed, hard. He saw fear flash across her face, and knew that's what it was because he'd seen it there how many times before, at this point. But there was a difference, now.

Now, she didn't turn away.

She didn't run.

She didn't even blink.

He leaned closer. She did the same. They met somewhere in the middle, her lips softer than he remembered them. Sweeter, somehow. The kiss deepened quickly, his hand buried in her hair and his body already on fire with the need for more. When they broke apart, they were both breathing hard – he felt like he'd just run a marathon. In a really, really good way.

"Kate…"

And there it was – that damned smirk again. "Yes, Rick?" She licked her lips, slow and lazy and predatory in a way he'd only dreamed of before. He groaned.

"You… Uh. You have a concussion."

She nodded. Her right hand was on his thigh, while her left rested on his chest, her fingers fisted in the soft cotton of his t-shirt. "I know," she said.

"So… While under normal circumstances, that kiss would lead to my bedroom and a night of passion that, I swear to you, would leave you weak in the knees and begging for more…"

The faintest hint of desire touched her dark eyes. But she nodded again, and then she removed her hand and moved back.

"Yeah… You're right. Sex and a concussion probably aren't the best combination – even on Christmas Eve."

They sat there for a minute of silence, a very noticeable gap between them on the sofa now. The places where her hands had been on his body were still warm, and he felt their absence more acutely than he really should have after such a short time. It was just after midnight. Ten years ago at this time, he was filling stockings and wrapping ridiculously overpriced gifts, while Alexis counted down the seconds 'til dawn.

The memory sparked something in him, the slightest tinge of melancholy that Kate seemed to notice. This time, she was the one who bridged the gap between them. She leaned up and kissed him lightly on the lips, lingering there for a second more than she really needed to, to get her point across.

"Weak in the knees and wanting more, huh?" she asked, her voice a silky whisper.

"You have no idea," he whispered back. She smiled, and he was oddly pleased that she remembered the reference.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a strong hug that she returned. Something had changed – oh yeah, something big had changed. Eventually, they'd need to have that discussion. For now, though, it was enough that she was safe in his arms and the lights were low and the apartment smelled of pine needles and Kate's subtle perfume. He stood, and pulled her to her feet.

"You should get some sleep."

"I'm supposed to be up every hour on the hour with someone looking into my eyes," Kate reminded him. Oh yeah. He'd almost forgotten about that. Before he could come up with a solution, she nodded upstairs. For the first time, he saw a trace of doubt.

"It seems silly to have you going back and forth between bedrooms all night."

It did. He waited for her to continue, unwilling to be the one to make the suggestion.

"I'm not talking about sex," she said. She licked her lips nervously. "I mean… Not that I'm not ever talking about sex. But… Tonight, maybe we could just…"

"Cuddle?" He couldn't help it – he grinned. Ear to ear. She rolled her eyes.

"You're such a child. Would that really be so bad?"

"Are you nuts?" He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and steered them both toward the stairs. "I can't think of a better way to spend Christmas Eve."

She gave him her best 'Give me a break' Beckett look.

"Okay… I can think of a few better ways to spend Christmas Eve. But this is a pretty good one, too."

They went up the stairs together. Castle still didn't know what the hell had happened, or what the hell would happen when dawn broke. For now, though, he was willing to live in the moment. With Kate on his arm and Christmas lights twinkling, snow falling heavily outside his window, it seemed like a pretty good moment to run with.

_TBC_


	2. Chapter 2

**_So, this is perhaps the longest delay anybody's had to endure for what was supposed to be a one-shot stinkin' Castle fic... Now,clearly it is a two-shot. With the potential for more, if you guys think you'd like to read that. Thanks to everyone for their kind feedback and tremendous patience. I'm also in the process of launching a RL novel, a mystery that will be out at the beginning of March. If you are moved to do so, I'd love it if you would check out (and ideally "Like") my Facebook fan page at www[dot]facebook[dot]com[slash]alltheblueeyedangels. That's All the Blue-Eyed Angels, one word, in case that makes no sense to you. And now... Onto the FIC!_**

* * *

><p>Castle had the best kitchen Kate had ever been in – all the latest gadgets, top of the line cookware, fully stocked fridge. Without the fear of discovery, she found herself going through his cabinets with a heady sort of abandon. Sure, he might find her down here and, sure, he'd make fun of her for making herself so comfortable… But she knew him well enough by now to know that Castle wouldn't actually <em>mind <em>sharing his space with her. It was a weird feeling; every relationship she'd ever been in before had been about maintaining a firm boundary between herself and the men in her life.

It felt like it could be different with Castle. More than that, it felt like maybe – and this was a big maybe – she _wanted _it to be different.

The plan that he wake her every hour on the hour last night had fallen by the wayside pretty quickly, despite his best intentions. She was tired and he was tired and it turned out that his bed – yeah, she'd actually slept in _Castle's _bed – was hands down the most comfortable bed she'd ever slept in in her life. Not that she was surprised by that, of course. This was Castle, after all.

There had been a little more kissing, but he'd been surprisingly adamant that it go no further _(Seriously, Kate, if you touch me there again, I won't be accountable for my actions. You have a concussion, woman. Start acting like it.). _And she knew he was confused – hell, she was confused herself, and she was the one who'd come to the decision a few weeks ago that she was ready to take this thing to the next level. Sort of. Maybe. Eventually, she'd need to let Castle in on that decision.

For now, however, she cooked up eggs and bacon and pancakes. Squeezed fresh juice. Remembered Christmas mornings as a little girl, waking up early to find her mom and dad already settled cozily in the living room waiting for her, looking like there was nowhere else in the world they would rather be.

Kate had always wanted that for herself. Somehow, memories of that time and the dreams she'd had before her mother was murdered had gotten tangled up, lost in her own quest for justice and the desperate need to protect herself from ever feeling that kind of loss again.

Her thoughts were interrupted at the sound of the apartment door opening. She looked up, spatula in mid-air as she prepared to flip the last pancake.

Castle's mother blinked in surprise, then immediately squelched a smile.

"I – uh, I had a concussion," Kate said quickly, before she could think of anything a little less idiotic.

"Of course you did, dear," Martha said smoothly. "Is Richard still in bed?"

"Not anymore," Castle said. He stood at the top of the stairs with his hair going in six directions, his pajamas rumpled and his eyes bleary. Kate tried unsuccessfully to hide a smile, and sternly reminded herself that she was making breakfast, dammit.

"I thought you were in Paris with my new dad," Castle said as he came down the stairs. He didn't seem to know whether or not to look at Kate. Since she was in the same boat, she remained focused on the food.

Martha waved off the comment. "I couldn't stand the thought of leaving you alone on your first Christmas without Alexis – Jean Paul was very understanding."

"How'd you get a flight?" Kate asked. "I thought all the airports were shut down."

"The beauty of dating a man with his own private jet," Martha said. "Well – one of the beauties." She lowered her voice and leaned toward Kate conspiratorially. "It's also a much classier way to join the mile high club, but that's just between us girls." Castle groaned, having clearly heard every word. "We actually set down in Virginia yesterday, where the weather was clearer," Martha continued, oblivious. "Then he had a driver take us the rest of the way."

"You shouldn't have taken that kind of risk," Rick said. He was at the counter now, eying the bacon with clear intent. "I would've been all right."

"Clearly," Martha said with a twinkle. "But a mother worries – you know that. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm beat… I think I'll just go upstairs and change."

"You'll join us for breakfast, though?" Kate asked.

"Oh, I don't want to impose…"

"No imposition," Rick said quickly. He caught Kate's eye and winked, and, like that, she felt the awkwardness start to melt away. "Kate apparently thinks I'm some kind of one-man wrecking crew when it comes to breakfast, but the fact is there's no way she and I can eat all this stuff."

"All right then," Martha agreed. "Let me get freshened up and I'll be down in a few minutes." She hurried up the stairs.

For a second or two after she was gone, Kate and Castle just stood there awkwardly. It had seemed so easy last night, so clear cut… She wanted him. More than that, she wanted to be _with _him. Not just for a night, or a few nights. But now, in the light of day, she realized that it wouldn't be that simple. Or if she even wanted it to be. She didn't know what she'd been thinking – all the same baggage was still there. And Castle wasn't exactly a low-maintenance kind of guy. And what if she screwed it up? She was hell on relationships – ask anyone.

Castle was suddenly at her side, his hand resting casually at the small of her back. He started to kiss her cheek, but she turned just in time to press her lips to his. He tasted like toothpaste, but he hadn't shaved yet – she had to admit that the stubble kind of turned her on. He pulled back just a little to look at her curiously.

"How's your head?"

"My head is fine, Doctor Castle."

"Ooh – now, I like the sound of that. Your pupils look good… As pupils go. No dizziness? Memory lapses? Say 'Sally sold seashells at the seashore' three times fast."

She laughed. "I'm fine, Rick."

He nodded, thinking this over. All at once, he was serious again. He furrowed his forehead, studying her closely. "We should talk."

"I know," she said, just as seriously.

"I mean – I like this whole…" he shook his head, clearly at a loss. "Whatever this is. But I feel like maybe I missed a couple of scenes. Or we're working from different scripts entirely."

"Yeah… No, I know," she said. She nodded too quickly, suddenly nervous. He was right – she was doing this all wrong. She backed away and nodded toward the food. "For now, though… Maybe we should just have breakfast. I called my dad, and he still wants to come over a little later… If that's okay, I mean."

Now he just looked confused. God, she was making a complete mess of this.

"Of course – yeah, I'm still all about the Christmas feast," Castle agreed. "We won't have time for me to cook my usual holiday bounty, but there's a great place that delivers – turkey and all the trimmings, just like mom used to make." He realized the implications of what he'd said, a little flash of horror crossing his face. "I mean… As the saying goes."

"I know what you meant," she said. She tried for a smile, but it felt weird and forced and… Wow, she was really bad at this. Suddenly, before Martha could come downstairs or her father showed up or somebody died and she got called away on a case, Kate grabbed Castle's hand, and held on tight. She looked him in the eye.

"Look, I don't really know what I'm doing here. Or what we're doing, for that matter. And I should have said something sooner, or… I don't know, we should've sat down and had some kind of relationship summit meeting or something."

Castle's eyebrows climbed his forehead. He was doing his damnedest not to smile. "A relationship summit meeting? Now that's romantic."

"Oh, nice – now you're making fun of me."

Before she could say another word, he kissed her – the kind of kiss that had almost gotten her to forget about her damned concussion last night, and just tear his clothes off then and there. The kind of kiss worth remembering. She pulled back, feeling a little dazed. Maybe that concussion was worse than she'd thought.

"We don't have to spell everything out, Kate. We don't have to know where it's going, or how soon we'll get there. We just have to keep talking."

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Nodded. "Keep talking…" She swallowed. "Yeah. I can do that."

He smiled. It was the Castle smile she'd kind of fallen for – not the smarmy charm smile he'd given her when they first started working together. The _real _Castle smile – the one that made her feel like she was the only one in the room, whether they were alone or on a crowded street.

"That's good," he said. "So… We'll keep talking. We'll have breakfast. I'll buy dinner, and we'll have a nice, quiet Christmas with the family."

"Well…" This time, it was her turn to try and hide her smile. "About that nice, quiet Christmas…"

"We're not having a nice, quiet Christmas?"

She felt herself start to blush, and rolled her eyes. She really needed to get a grip. "I kind of… I mentioned to Lanie last night that you were doing this, and since she didn't have anything going on I figured you wouldn't mind… But somehow between me asking her and me falling off the damn fire escape, I completely forgot to mention to _you _that I'd invited her."

"Okay… A nice, quiet Christmas with you, your dad, my mother, and… Lanie. A little weird, but okay."

"Well, yeah… I thought it was a little weird, too," she said. He was watching her like she was the funniest damned thing on the planet. God, she hated that. "So, then this morning Ryan called to find out if I was okay."

"You invited Ryan?"

"Jenny's parents were supposed to fly up here from Florida, because they decided at the last minute to have Christmas in New York. But then, of course, all the flights got cancelled."

"You invited Jenny and Ryan."

"And Esposito."

He winced. "Please don't tell me you invited the captain."

"No – no, definitely not. Just us."

He was starting to look a little dazed. "Okay, then… Your dad, my mom, Lanie and Esposito – who can't be in the same room without trying to kill each other these days, incidentally – and Jenny and Ryan. Anyone else I should know about?"

"I'm pretty sure that's it. I told everyone to bring something, though, so at least we don't have to cook everything."

Something about that struck him funny and he was laughing at her again, which was getting old. She gave him a little bit of a glare, just to let him know she didn't appreciate that kind of thing.

"Sorry," he apologized immediately, looking contrite as only Castle could. "I just… One night in my bed, and you're already planning dinner parties at my place."

She slugged him in the arm.

"_Ow_ – Not that I mind you planning dinner parties at my place. Plan all you want." He kissed her on the cheek, his eyes sparkling. "Invite the whole city if you'd like."

Martha came down then and cleared her throat, giving them both a knowing glance. "Well, this looks lovely. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Castle looked at Kate, eyes still bright. "Absolutely. It seems we're putting on an impromptu Christmas extravaganza, so we'll need all hands on deck."

Martha's eyes lit up – not unlike her son's, as a matter of fact. "Really? Ooh, I do love a party! I'll get to work immediately!"

While Martha's vow to help had seemed genuine at the time, Kate was surprised how quickly the woman vanished after breakfast.

"She's picking an outfit," Rick said as he loaded the dishwasher, as though he'd read her mind, "and probably inviting a few friends. Or – " he considered that, tilting his head back and forth like he was weighing the words. "Possibly half of the New York Actors Guild."

"I'm sorry, Rick – I figured we could make it a small thing."

"Are you kidding? I love this stuff – it'll be fun."

She was at the sink, her back to him so she didn't see him come up behind her. A second later he was there, warm and solid, his arms on either side of her body as his lips found her ear.

"Especially if you're here," he whispered.

A shiver ran up her spine. She'd spent so much time with Castle over the past couple of years that she'd almost forgotten about this side of him – the side that had women around the country swooning every time he did a reading. The side that was cocky and just a little bit dangerous. She turned to face him, willing herself to stay cool.

"We're not gonna get much party planning done like this."

He moved in closer, his hand settled on her hip, his lips ghosting over her neck. Her eyes fluttered shut.

"I'm an excellent multi-tasker," he murmured.

There were things they had to talk over, half a dozen reasons she shouldn't let this continue. Last night, she hadn't been quite in her right mind; even the doctors could attest to that. It was just… It felt so damned comfortable being here. So damned… Right.

"Rick." She touched his cheek and he looked up from the incredible freakin' things he was doing to her neck. Looked her in the eye. Smiled.

The bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

"Is this the part where you tell me we shouldn't be doing this?" he asked.

She hesitated.

"That you weren't thinking straight last night, but all the obstacles that were keeping us apart before are still there?"

For the first time, she saw a hint of vulnerability in his eyes.

She swallowed past her fear, biting her lip for just a second before she made her decision.

She kissed him.

It wasn't surprising to her that Castle was a good kisser. She'd had firsthand knowledge of that fact for a while now, after all. She wasn't even surprised at all the other things he was so good at – the things he did with his hands, how solid his body felt against hers, or how he seemed to hone in on all those sweet spots that never failed to bring her to her knees. If anything, he seemed to be finding areas she hadn't even _known _were sweet spots in the first place.

No, none of that was surprising.

What was surprising was just how turned on she got, kissing Castle. She'd dated some good looking men – seriously good looking men. Technically, better looking than the great Richard Castle: they were taller, leaner, more athletic, had stronger jaws and longer eyelashes and all the things that turned heads wherever they went.

She'd never felt like this with any of them, though. Like it would be the easiest thing in the world to just lose control. Rick's hand found its way underneath her shirt, his fingers warm and tantalizing against her bare skin. Jesus.

"Castle," she kind of gasped, when they'd broken apart for air. He tipped his forehead against hers, his breath coming just as hard.

"Yes, _Beckett_?" he gasped right back, obviously trying to be funny.

"We should probably stop."

"Right." He nodded, though he didn't put any distance between them. She could feel him pressed against her, clearly just as turned on as she was, his breath still coming hard. "Tell me why that is, again?"

"Because you're having a Christmas party in two hours?"

"Right. Yeah – Christmas party. As reasons go… That's a good one. Very logical."

He took a step back, inhaling deeply. When he met her eye this time, he was serious again. He pressed his lips together, his brow furrowed, and Kate knew exactly where this was leading.

"I know I said we didn't need to spell everything out," he said, "but I think it might be a good idea to at least have a conversation."

"Yeah. You're right, Cas – Rick," she corrected herself when he arched an eyebrow. "Rick," she said, almost to herself. And that's when it dawned on her: She'd kissed Castle. He hadn't initiated it, she had. _She had kissed Castle. _And there was no going back now – none.

"Kate – " he said, forehead still furrowed, eyes still knowing. This had been a really bad idea.

Before he could say anything more, her phone rang. She excused herself and hurried to answer, heart pounding, palms sweaty. She wondered briefly what her shrink would say about this. She pushed the thought out of her head and picked up the phone.

"Beckett."

"Hey Beckett, it's Ryan."

Her voice wasn't quite right, her heart still racing, but she forced herself back to an even tone. She could feel Castle watching her, and turned her back to get a little space. She just needed some space.

"Merry Christmas again, Ry. What's up?"

There was a long pause on the line. Uh oh.

"Ryan? You there?"

"Uh – yeah, yeah, I'm here. But, listen, Jenny's cousins showed up on our doorstep about twenty minutes ago."

"Oh – well, that's okay. We can do Christmas dinner some other year."

"Yeah – right," he agreed.

He didn't hang up, though. Out of the corner of her eye, Kate saw Castle going through the cupboards – still watching her, though he was trying hard not to look like it. She shook her head, trying to focus on the conversation.

"Let me guess," Kate said, finally reading Ryan's silence. "Jenny's cousins are fans of Richard Castle."

"Huge fans," he whispered, like maybe they were in the next room and he didn't want them to hear.

"So…" she considered for only a moment before she shrugged. If Castle was right, his mother would already have the place filled up by dinner anyway. What was a few more people? "What the hell, bring 'em along."

"You sure?"

"Hang on – let me double check." She took the phone away from her mouth. Despite her anxiety, she squelched a smile when she saw the mountains of food Castle had hauled from his cupboards. "Jenny's cousins just hit town, and they want to know if they can get a confab with _the _Richard Castle."

There was still a little doubt in his eyes, but it eased at the teasing in her voice. "The more the merrier. Though I refuse to sign anyone's breast on a religious holiday."

"Since when?"

"New rule."

She rolled her eyes. "You hear that?" she said into the phone.

"Got it," Ryan answered. "He can handle the cousins, just not their… uh, more intimate areas. Just between you and me," he lowered his voice again. "Good call on that rule. Jenny definitely got the looks in this family."

They said their goodbyes and hung up. Once he was gone, Kate just stood there for a moment, taking stock. Rick had put on Christmas music – Bing Crosby, of course – and his sideboards were rapidly filling with every ingredient known to man. Who the hell kept all this stuff on hand, anyway?

This was definitely the point when the old Kate would bolt. Retreat to her own apartment to get some distance.

The urge was still there, there was no denying it. She'd spent a long time building these walls, and even Richard Castle couldn't make them crumble overnight. The urge wasn't so strong that she couldn't fight it, though. She took a breath. Then another.

The Christmas lights were on, snow still falling heavily outside. She hadn't missed the small pile of gifts with her name on them under the tree.

"Hey, Castle," she called from the other room.

He turned to look at her. "Yeah, Beckett?"

"You really think we can handle this?"

He looked confused for a second, not sure what she was asking.

"The party," she clarified. She didn't take her eyes from his, hoping he understood her true meaning. "I mean… It seems like it's kind of late in the game. And I think maybe it could be a much bigger deal than we thought at first." She looked down for a moment, twisting the ring on her right hand, before she looked up again. "Maybe it would be better if we just forgot the whole thing."

Castle got down from his stepstool and walked over to her, his eyes never leaving hers. He nodded toward the couch where they'd curled up last night – just a few hours ago, when everything had seemed so clear. So simple.

"Have a seat."

"Castle, we don't have time – "

"We'll make time," he said firmly, that glint of iron on his face that he so rarely showed. "Sit, Kate."

She sat on one end of the couch, while he took the other. They weren't touching, and Castle made no move to change that. She found herself strangely on edge – it occurred to her that she really didn't know which way she wanted this conversation to go.

"I know last night was a big deal," he said quietly.

"We kissed – you barely made it past second base," she said with a shrug. "It wasn't _that _big a deal."

He didn't look the least bit ruffled by her words. "You're a liar," he said evenly, with a little smile. There was genuine fondness in his voice. "And what's more, you know you're a liar. I meant what I said, Kate – we don't have to know where this is going, or how long it'll take to get there. But I think it'd be a mistake to dismiss it as something inconsequential. Something that just happened, and now we sweep it under the rug and pretend it didn't."

"I never said I wanted to do that."

"Good."

He still wasn't touching her, and she was grateful that he knew her well enough to give her that space. She looked down at her hands, playing with her ring again.

"I'm not good at this," she admitted, her voice a near whisper. "I don't know if it's even in me to be good at this."

He covered her hand with his own, stilling her movement until she met his gaze. "Everything you do," he said, watching her in that way he had – the one that always made her feel cherished, extraordinary. "Everything you set your mind on, you do brilliantly. This is no different, Kate. I know the circumstances aren't exactly what you were hoping for – your mother's killer is still out there."

Her eyes slid from his at that, but he touched her chin with his index finger, forcing her to look at him.

"I don't believe you would have kissed me if you didn't want this. If you weren't ready to give it a shot, on some level." He caressed her cheek and she closed her eyes, leaning in to his touch. "I think you're tired of doing this alone. Of fighting to keep your head above water, fighting this thing between you and me, fighting to seem as though you have everything under control."

The truth of his words struck her, the weight of the burden she'd been carrying on her own for so long suddenly crushing. He'd struck a nerve – she wasn't prepared for how big this felt, suddenly. How deeply it was affecting her. She pushed past the feeling, choosing to ignore the panic blossoming in her chest. A second or two of silence passed between them while she struggled to get herself back under control.

She looked at him once more. "You said we don't have to figure it all out right now…" There was a plea in her voice that she couldn't hide. "I know it's not fair, Rick, but… I just need a little time. Can we just… I don't know, just for today, can we go back to the way things were?"

Hurt flashed across his face before he could hide it, but then it was gone. In its place was a mask that was so much worse, a fake smile and veiled eyes as he withdrew from her.

"Yeah, of course." He pulled his hand back into his own lap. "Whatever you want, Kate."

An awkward silence fell. He stood and nodded toward the kitchen. "We should probably get things started if I'm gonna have this place suitable for the party of the season in a few hours."

"Right." She nodded. "Just let me know what you need me to do."

Their eyes held. "Just relax," he said. The mask faltered. "Take things as they come. We'll get through." A tense second passed before he suddenly grinned, the mask firmly back in place. "I mean – it's just a party, right?"

She took a deep breath, nodding rapidly. "Yeah – exactly. No big deal."

It turned out that Jenny's cousins weren't the only unexpected guests that day. Esposito brought a few of his buddies, all of them showing up on cross-country skis a little after two o'clock, since the New York City streets were virtually impassable thanks to the storm. Lanie brought three of her girlfriends. Martha seemed to have invited every displaced actor in the five boroughs, so that by three o'clock that afternoon Castle's apartment was packed to overflowing.

Christmas music played. Alcohol flowed. People ate, and danced, and drank. Afternoon turned to evening, and it was clear that everyone was having a great time.

Kate couldn't help but think it didn't actually feel much like Christmas, though.

After their awkward conversation and Kate's request that they in essence pretend last night never happened, Castle had been careful to keep his distance. He was polite when her dad arrived, the perfect host to everyone who crossed his threshold. If she didn't know him so well, Kate might have thought he was completely unaffected by the tension between them. She _did_ know him so well, though, and the way he was watching her when he thought she wasn't looking spoke volumes about what was really going on in his head.

Still, Castle put on one hell of a front. She couldn't help but notice that a couple of Lanie's friends seemed to have set their sights on him, as he did his usual, stellar job of charming the pants off of everyone. Kate watched him from across the room, talking animatedly while she and her father finally got a few minutes to themselves off in a corner.

"You know he watches you the same way, when he thinks you're not looking?" her dad said, out of the blue.

She looked at him in surprise. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Please, Katie," he said. "I'm not blind. You've been watching him all day – though you haven't gone within ten feet of him since I got here. Did something happen?"

"No – of course not. I mean… It's not a big deal, Dad. We're fine. I just wanna focus on you. It's Christmas, right? Time for family."

Martha was at the piano playing show tunes while her actor friends sang; Kate couldn't help but wonder what it really must have been like for Castle, growing up this way. Her father nodded.

"You're right – time for family." He nodded toward Castle, now looking very trapped by Jenny's five plump country cousins. "So… Go talk to Rick."

She started to protest, but he held up his hand. "You know, you're as stubborn as your mother sometimes. It's been just you and me for too long, honey. I'm a big boy – I'll be fine. Go."

It was pointless to argue with him – she knew that from experience. And so, at just after seven that night, she looked across the room to find that Castle had finally broken away from the crowds. He stood by his Christmas tree, hands in his pockets, looking unmistakably wistful. Kate followed his gaze to a huge stack of presents at the back, and just like that all of her own insecurities fell by the wayside. She was an idiot. A selfish idiot.

She navigated through the crowd – past Dan the brown-eyed skier and the corn-fed cousins and Lanie and Esposito, who'd gone from pointed barbs to some very suggestive dancing, in the space of a few hours. When she reached Castle, she touched his arm awkwardly.

"Hey."

He smiled – not a real Castle smile, though. Just a shadow of it, really. "Hey. Are you leaving?"

She was surprised at the question, though she didn't really know why. All she'd done since people started showing up was avoid him, choosing to talk to perfect strangers rather than risk broaching the subject she still wasn't sure she knew how to handle. She shook her head.

"No – not yet. I just…" She looked around, chewing on her bottom lip before she leaned in a little bit closer. "Do you want to get out of here?"

For a second, she thought he was going to say no. As it was, he had to think about it for a second before he nodded.

"You have someplace in mind?"

"Grab your coat and my presents, and follow me."

He looked at her curiously, but he didn't argue.

Ten minutes later, for the second time in as many days, Kate found herself on a rooftop overlooking the city. The snow had slowed, leaving a pristine blanket of white that she knew wouldn't last. By morning, the snow would turn to slush, traffic would be flowing, and life would go back to the way it always was. For now, though…

Now, it seemed magical.

Once they were alone, she realized she still wasn't quite sure where to begin. She seized on the one topic she knew she could handle.

"Thinking about Alexis?" she asked, as Castle stood looking out over the city.

"What? No," he said quickly, like he was embarrassed to admit it. At the knowing look in her eye, he shrugged. "Well – okay, yeah. Maybe a little."

"Have you called her?"

"I don't want to bug her – you said to give her some space." He frowned. "When she was three, she didn't want space – all she wanted was to be in my arms." He pouted, looking completely disgruntled. And honestly a little adorable. "Stupid space."

She laughed. "I said give her space, Castle – that doesn't mean you have to abandon her. Why don't you call her? I'm sure she's been waiting all day to hear from you."

He considered this. "What – you mean now? Here?"

"You sure as hell won't be able to hear her if you call from downstairs."

"You sure you don't mind?"

"Speaking as a daddy's girl myself? I'd be pissed if you didn't."

This earned her a grin – a true Castle grin, without the mask or the pretenses or the hurt feelings. While he dialed, Kate cleared the snow off a deck chair, shivering a little in her jacket. She couldn't help but overhear once Castle and his daughter connected, and she smiled to herself when she heard him talking to her.

"Ssh – It's okay, sweetie. There'll be other Christmases with me. I miss you, too, but it'll be all right."

He flashed Kate an apologetic smile, and kept talking.

By the time he hung up, Kate was teetering on the edge of hypothermia. Still, it made it worth it to see the look on Castle's face. She got out of her chair and went to stand beside him.

"She was glad to hear from you, I take it?"

"I can't figure her out sometimes," he said, shaking his head in bafflement. "Now she's homesick – she was crying her eyes out, she and Ashley are fighting… I don't know, maybe I shouldn't have let her go."

"You did the right thing, Rick. She has to figure this stuff out on her own – you can't always be there to shield her from every painful lesson the world's gonna dish out."

He didn't like that, she could tell. "I guess. But I can't even try?" He shook his head. "I don't get you women and your space, anyway."

She suppressed a smile. "I'm sorry - _Us women_?"

"You heard me." He looked her in the eye, taking a step closer. She didn't retreat. "I don't like pretending last night didn't happen." A dusting of snow was on his shoulders, his cheeks red from the cold. Kate suddenly didn't feel as chilled as she had a moment before. "And I don't think you like it, either."

Instead of falling into his arms the way she suddenly wanted very much to do, Kate returned to the deck chair and sat down, pulling her knees up to her chin as she gazed out over the city.

"You're always there, you know?" she said quietly. Castle didn't answer, waiting for her to find whatever it was she wanted to say. "For four years now, you've been there – right on my heels, whether I wanted you there or not. And I…" God, she was cold. She traced patterns on her jeans with a gloved finger, bearing down so hard that it almost hurt.

Castle got another chair and pulled it around so they were facing each other. "Kate."

She didn't look up. Couldn't, really. The risk outweighed the benefits ten to one, as far as she could see.

"Hey – Kate, come on. Look at me."

Finally, she did just that. There was a thoughtful half-smile on his lips as he studied her, taking in everything she sometimes wished he couldn't see about her. The stuff nobody else knew.

"Nothing's gonna change, Kate."

She arched an eyebrow, rolling her eyes. "People always say that, but let's be honest here, Rick. Things have _already _changed, and all we did was kiss."

"Well – and a little light fondling," he amended.

She squelched a smile at that. "I'm serious. I just… I've lost too many people, Castle." She shook her head, her eyes once more drifting to the pattern she was tracing into her jeans. "This year – this last couple of years, really, I just got so… tired." How long had she been dancing around what she really wanted to say? She looked up slowly, her eyes dry, her chest tight.

"I can't lose you, too," she said, so softly it was almost a whisper.

He pulled his chair closer – so close that his body shielded her from the wind. Warmed her. She thought suddenly of the night in that stupid freezer, wrapped up in his arms, convinced that that was the end. He reached for her and took her hands in his, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Listen, Kate… If you tell me you don't want to do this because you're not attracted to me, or you think it'll compromise our working relationship, or… Hell, any one of a thousand valid reasons, then I'll respect that. I'll back off. We'll go back to the way things were, just like you wanted." He thought about that for a moment, his jaw clenched slightly before it relaxed once more. When he continued, that half-smile was back on his lips.

"But so far, I haven't heard that. Yeah, I've heard that it's a bad idea… I've heard that you weren't thinking straight… I've heard you need some space. Mostly, though? Mostly, I've just heard you running for cover. You're scared. I get that."

She started to protest, but fell silent at the look in his eye.

"What if you just give it a week?" he said suddenly.

He'd switched gears so quickly she wasn't sure quite where he was going. "What do you mean?"

"You and me. Free trial, no commitment to buy. Just… One week, where you don't worry about what happens next or how being in a relationship compromises your commitment to catching your mother's killer or whether or not this whole thing is gonna blow up in our faces. One week where we just… Date."

She wrinkled her nose, which by now was damn near frozen. "We can't do that."

"Why not? We're both consenting adults – in no part of this plan are we breaking any laws. Just give it a shot. See if this whole thing between you and me is really anything at all, or if we've just built it up over the past few years. Find out whether or not the sky will fall if I get to kiss you goodnight at the end of a long day."

It was a crazy idea – you couldn't just test drive a person the way you did a car. And yet…

"When would we start?" she asked after a second or two of thought.

"Today," he said, without hesitation. There was a little spark of hope in his eyes, like he already knew she was about to agree. Which, of course, drove her crazy. "Now through New Year's Day."

"And if at the end of the week we decide this really is a bad idea…?"

"We go back to the way things were," he said with a shrug. No big deal. His eyes said differently, but she knew he was trying like hell not to show that. "We work together. Go out for coffee. Catch a movie every so often."

"Nothing changes."

"Not a thing."

"If we do this – and I'm not saying we are," she said quickly, "…I don't think we should tell anybody. They wouldn't get it. It'd end up being too weird."

"I agree," he said, just as quickly. "Nobody needs to know about this but you and me."

"So at work, we're the same as always – I solve cases, you follow me around making bad jokes…"

"…You snipe at me and discount everything I say until the moment my theories are proven correct and I ultimately solve the case."

She rolled her eyes, looking away from him while she tried to contain her smile. "And then… What? We leave work and come back to your place for a week of clandestine sex?"

He swallowed hard at that, squelching a smile of his own. "I was thinking we could build up to that, actually. Maybe start with dinner and dancing."

"Where? Your face isn't exactly unknown around here – our first date would end up on every gossip site on the web."

He moved closer. Brushed the hair from her face. For a second, she couldn't breathe. When they kissed this time, it was slow and deep and, had she been standing, Kate wasn't sure that her knees wouldn't have buckled.

"Let me worry about that," Castle said when they parted. "Stop coming up with reasons why it's not gonna work – just for a little while."

She thought about that, arching an eyebrow. "There are a lot of reasons."

"There are," he conceded.

She took a deep breath, then let it out in a long, slow exhale. "Castle?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm freakin' freezing. Can we finish this conversation inside?"

He grinned. "Hey, you're the one who dragged me up here. There are places a whole lot warmer we could've gone."

She glanced back at the view over the city: at the fresh blanket of snow and the million and one Christmas lights and the seemingly peaceful world that, she knew, was anything but.

"Yeah, but it wouldn't have been as nice."

She put her arm through his as they walked to the door leading back inside.

"You sure you don't want to take the fire escape?" Castle asked, grinning and shivering in equal measure. "I'm sure it'd be a nice trip."

"You're funny, Castle."

"Tell me about it."

He held the door for her, her unopened presents still under one arm. Inside the stairwell, the wind was blessedly absent and the temperature was at least thirty degrees warmer and it was quiet and dark enough to make things seem… safer, somehow. She stopped Castle with a hand on his arm just before he started down the stairs.

"Wait."

He turned to look at her curiously.

"You should open your present," she said.

"I, uh…" He looked a little embarrassed. "I didn't think you got me anything – not that that would've been a big deal."

"Of course I got you something. It's Christmas – you're my partner. Why wouldn't I get you something?"

She reached into her coat for the slender wrapped box nestled in the inside pocket. He looked at it curiously, gesturing to the gifts he had.

"You wanna open yours, too?"

Somebody with a little more dignity might have said no, but the fact was, Kate really liked getting presents. Especially presents from Castle – the guy had a knack. She sat down at the top of the stairs; Castle sat beside her.

"Open yours first – then I'll open mine."

He wasn't timid about the wrapping paper, that was for sure. Castle dove in, but then paused when he opened the box. His forehead furrowed. For the longest time, he just sat there and stared.

"Castle?"

He wouldn't look at her, still staring at the book nestled inside the box.

"It's signed… I mean, inside," she said awkwardly. "I wasn't sure what to get, but I remembered you saying once…"

"It was the book that made me want to be a writer."

"Alexis said you didn't have a signed copy, so I figured… Do you like it?"

"Uh – yeah. Yeah, I do. Very much."

"Because if you want, you can return it…"

"Return a signed first edition of _The Last Good Kiss_?" He shook his head, finally meeting her eye. "Do you know how rare this is? How'd you even find it?"

"It wasn't hard." That was a lie, of course – she'd been looking for months before she finally got a lead from an ex-con she'd helped out a couple times over the years. The way Castle was looking at her, it was clear he knew she was full of crap.

"Well… Thank you." He touched the cover with near-reverence. "Original dust jacket and everything – it's…" When he looked at her this time, it was with that rare intensity that she kind of loved about him. "It's perfect." He nodded toward her presents, the sparkle back in his eye. "Now open yours."

She didn't have to be told twice. As usual, he'd gone above and beyond. A pretty blue scarf, some new gloves, and…

At the third box, she froze and looked up at him. "Rick, I can't accept this."

He looked uncomfortable – nervous, maybe. "I was at this vintage shop with Alexis, a little while after you got shot…" He shook his head, his gaze shifting to the box in her lap. "You'd been gone about a month, and I was so… Angry. And a little worried. And then more angry, _because _I was worried."

"So you bought me a gorgeous necklace?" she said dryly. "Wow. If this is what you usually do when you're pissed…"

He chuckled. "It was Alexis, actually – she saw it and said it reminded her of you. I got even madder, and we ended up having a fight in the middle of SoHo. Once I cooled down, I went back to the shop."

It was exactly the kind of thing that should have made her want to run for dear life. What kind of man bought something like _this – _pearls and yellow gold and what could only be real diamonds, since this was Castle after all – for a woman who'd dropped out of his life just days after he'd saved hers? She shook her head.

"Castle – Rick," she corrected herself. She swallowed past all the fear and worry, and tried to focus on the man beside her. "It's beautiful. And I appreciate where it's coming from – " she saw the disappointment cross his face, and touched his arm before he could misinterpret this completely. "I do, _really_. But… Can we build up to a necklace like this? Maybe get through that whole Week-of-Covert-Dating thing first, before you give me jewelry that probably cost more than a months' salary?"

He frowned. "I knew it was too much."

"It really is beautiful. Just… I'm not ready for it – not quite yet."

"But you might be… Would that be a correct inference from that little 'not yet' tag of yours?"

She squeezed his arm. Stood. "Let's just get through the week, okay? I wanna know where you plan on taking me for our first official date – then we'll worry about jewelry. Deal?"

There was a beat or two where she wasn't sure which way he'd go, before he finally smiled. Actually, he grinned. A lot. She took a step back.

"What are you smiling at?"

He backed her against the wall in the deserted stairwell. Then once he'd closed the distance between them, he just kept right on closing the distance until his body was pressed to hers and they were practically eyeball to eyeball.

"You sure you're ready for this, Kate?"

His voice had taken on a low, smoldering quality that nearly made her shiver.

"Oh, I'm sure," she said. The words came out without a hitch or a hint of the nerves she was feeling. Which was good. "Are you?"

His lips hovered close to hers, still not quite touching. Her heart was beating like a trip hammer – but then, so was his.

"Clandestine nights on the town. Holding hands under the interrogation table. Stolen glances at the precinct – " She started to protest but stopped when Castle's lips migrated toward her ear. "And everything that comes after," he whispered. "I'm ready."

She was just getting ready to take the bull by the horns and just kiss him already when she heard footsteps on the stairs below. She shoved Castle away so hard he almost took a header – he looked confused for half a second before he realized what was happening. Another three seconds and Lanie and Esposito appeared on the stairs.

"There you are!" Lanie said. She looked a little wobbly on her feet; Esposito wasn't looking all that steady himself. "Everyone's been looking for you two."

"Yeah," Esposito said. "We thought you ditched us." Kate noticed that his hand was resting at the small of Lainie's back in a distinctly possessive way.

"No, we didn't," Lanie said immediately. "_You _thought that. I knew they were around here somewhere, doing whatever it is these two do together when nobody's looking."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Castle jumped in. "We don't do anything when nobody's looking. That's crazy talk."

Kate shot him a killing glare, then turned smoothly back to their co-workers with her best one-of-the-boys smiles. "All right… Yeah, you caught us. We were just up on the roof doin' the deed in a snowstorm at twenty below. What can I say? Blizzards make me hot."

Castle laughed nervously, while Lanie gave Esposito her best, _I told you, you damn fool_ smirk. No matter what she said, though, Kate could tell Javier wasn't buying it. Before he could call her on anything, she swept past them with a glance back toward Rick.

"They're right, though – we should probably get back."

"Yeah, right," Castle said. "Definitely. It is my party, after all."

He kind of bumped past the others until he was beside her on the stairs. They headed back down, while Lainie and Esposito went to check out the view from the roof. As soon as they were out of sight, Kate reached around and oh-so-gently squeezed Castle's shapely behind. He jumped.

"You know, Castle," she said with a smart-ass smirk and her very lowest fuck-me whisper, "I think you're right. This is gonna be fun."

He turned toward her with a look that was about seven-eighths turned on and one-eighth completely terrified.

Oh, yeah. It was gonna be a good week.

_FIN_

* * *

><p><em><strong>What do you think, guys? Would you read a (much sexier, and ideally much more quickly posted) continuation? <strong>  
><em>


End file.
